


A Legion Of Errors

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, Eventual Wincest, First Time, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Five guys Sam kissed and the one guy he settled down with. It's the writer's choice which guys Sam kisses and which guy Sam ends up with."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Legion Of Errors

**Author's Note:**

> Instance of an underage kiss. Two of these kisses may be considered dub-con.

**The First Time (Sam/OMC)**  
  
By the time Sam starts junior year, Dean's continually giving him shit about  _sweet sixteen and never been kissed_. Sam makes a half-hearted attempt at a punch some of the time, but mostly he chooses to ignore his brother and focus on school. He needs to get out of there. It's about the only thing that seems important.  
  
"At least get out of the house, Sam," Dean tells him one day, lounging on a chair and watching the grainy, black-and-white TV in the corner.  
  
"We're in a  _motel_ ," Sam tells him, deadpan.  
  
"To-may-to, to-mah-to," Dean says. He looks at Sam. "Seriously, dude, you get to be a teenager  _once_ , save the geekboy stuff for hunts."  
  
Sam sighs - dramatically, he knows - he slams shut Jane Austen's  _Pride and Prejudice_. Okay, so it's not a great book, but it's still on his reading list and Sam needs to get ahead considering how often they move and move every single month.  
  
"Fine," he says to Dean, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. "Don't wait up."  
  
* * *  
  
This wasn't Sam's first high school party. He had been to one in freshman year. Though that was more Dean dragging him along to a senior party after Dad passed out drunk and Dean, for whatever reason came to only his mind, decided it was better for Sam to be around a dozen drunk eighteen-year-olds than one drunk father.  
  
It had sucked.  
  
At least here Sam kinda knew people. Sure, he was still forced into the shadows and the background, offering a smile and not much else to the people who walked past. He accepted a single beer, nursed it, and watched others that had managed to do something Sam never had - assimilate.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Sam turned his head to take in the guy now standing beside him, dark hair covering his eyes and a red cup in his hand.  
  
"Mitch," the guy says. He smiles, a flash of white teeth big enough that it seems to take up half his face. "Sam, right?"  
  
"Yeah." Sam nods. He sips his beer that suddenly tastes ten times more bitter than before.  
  
Mitch comes closer before leaning against the wall, one foot propped up. "I haven't seen you at any parties this year."  
  
Sam shrugs. He doesn't feel the need to explain it's because he's only been in this town two weeks and will be moving on within the next three days. Most people forget him, or mistake him for someone else, until Sam's nothing more than a blur across the USA. Dean says it's a good thing - that you can get away with more. Sam's yet to agree.  
  
"You should," Mitch says. "Come to more things, I mean. It'd be cool to get to know you."  
  
Sam offers him a smile. "Yeah, maybe." It won't work, and it's not like Mitch will care next week. He'll forget him. They all do.  
  
"Really," Mitch says. He reaches out, brushes Sam's hair behind his ear, and Sam freezes. "You should."  
  
When Mitch leans closer, Sam doesn't pull back. He sees it, he  _knows_  it, and the only thing that really comes to his mind is  _"wow, this guy has balls_  which makes him think of Dean and Sam  _so_  doesn't want to think about his brother right now.  
  
Mitch pulls back and there's a smirk playing on his face. "Really."

 

* * *

 

 

 **Take Two (Sam/Brady)**  
  
Sam is drunk. Not just drunk, but fully, completely, totally trashed out of his mind to the point where he's surprised that he can even walk straight.  
  
Which then makes him realise that it's mostly Brady's arm supporting him up the stairs toward their room, Sam leaning on him heavily, Brady's hot, sour breath near his ear.  
  
Sam laughs. "Dude, this is so gay."  
  
"Uh-huh," Brady replies. "Fuck you're heavy."  
  
They reach the room and Brady shoves the door open - really should've locked that before going out - helping Sam inside and dumping him on the bed.

"Gonna hafta help me take my shoes off," Sam says. He attempts to do so himself but gives up, defeated, lying back on the bed and closing his eyes. Fine. Whatever. He can sleep with shoes on.  
  
"Who the fuck wears laces when they're getting trashed?" Brady asks. Sam feels him tugging at his shoes.  
  
"Everyone," Sam mumbles.  
  
Brady tugs one shoe off. Starts on the other and Sam hears swearing, feels pulling, and laughs.  
  
"Good at doing what you're told," Sam says.  
  
"I give up," Brady announces.  
  
"Mmm." Sam's too tired to talk. Good, finally,  _sleep_.  
  
He's been at college three months now, sailing through his classes, but he hasn't been able to have a solid, good sleep since he started. Nightmares wake him up. They're usually of something happening to Dad or Dean, and Sam never thought that would be a problem. He figured once he was gone from all of that, he could just keep going; it's not like he was much use to either of them. They always had to protect him. Dad never let him forget that point.  
  
Sam cracks an eye open and sees Brady kneeling beside him, one shoe held in the air almost comically. Sam reaches out and flings it to the floor, quietly proud that he has such good hand-eye coordination when he's so intoxicated.  
  
"Good party," Brady says.  
  
Sam nods as a smile pulls across his face. For a few hours at least, he managed to forget.  
  
When Brady doesn't move, Sam lets both eyes come open to look at him. He watches, almost as though his body and mind have become too separate entities, as Brady comes forward until his face is a blurred shape in Sam's eyes. Then he feels it, dry lips against his own, followed by the wet push of a tongue between them. Sam opens up with a silent gasp for air and Brady's mouth slots over his. It's a few more moments before Sam's body and mind become one of them, and by that point Brady's got his hands buried in Sam's hair, tongue prodding deeper and Sam returning every movement.  
  
Brady's free hand has worked itself to the hem of Sam's shirt, pushing the material up and sliding underneath. His hand is warm -  _hot_  - and his fingertips drag over the skin until they dip down again, to the front of Sam's jeans where he palms over Sam's cock. Sam freezes, it's momentarily but it's enough, and Brady pulls back.  
  
"Are you--? Is this--?"  
  
Sam nods and it's powerful, strong, sure. Fuck. Fuck yes.  
  
Their mouths come together again and Brady's hand gets to work at Sam's zipper, dragging it down it hast. Sam arches his hips, lets the denim be dragged away, and has another fleeting thought of  _what the fuck am I doing? What the fuck would_ Dean _think?_  when Brady's hand slips into his underwear and wraps around his cock.  
  
Just like that, everything is gone. Every shitty, painful, intrusive thought is wiped away. Instead it is replaced with the sound of their breathing, the feel of Brady's breath on his lips and hand on his cock, the look of Brady's eyes with blown-wide pupils and lips caught between teeth.  
  
It doesn't last long. Sam hadn't expected it to. A few strong, thorough thrusts and he's falling apart, bent almost double, and struggling to breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

**Third Time's A Charm (Sam/OMC)**

Between Brady and Jess, there is one more. Less alcohol this time, and also less time.  
  
Sam takes a class in philosophy at the advice of a professor who thinks legal studies of all types are a waste of time for law school. "Learn from reading and writing," the professor tells him. "God knows it's all you'll be doing for years." So Sam listens, because he's good at listening when he needs to be.  
  
There's a guy in his class - Jake - who isn't shy about what he thinks of Sam from the first day.  
  
"Do you want to grab a coffee?" he asks, and Sam declines.   
  
But Jake is nice, polite, smiles every time they catch eyes and offers to help him out with a near-impossible assignment about fatalism and it's connection to free will. Brady is home for the weekend so Sam thinks  _what the hell?_  and tells Jake to come around. Within ten minutes their books are forgotten and Jake is straddling Sam's thighs, lips pressed tightly together.  
  
It feels fine, but there's something missing. Sam decides to take Brady up on the blind date he's been trying to get Sam to go on for months.

 

* * *

 

 **Fourth Around The Block (Sam/Michael)**  
  
Sam's pretty sure this is a dream.  
  
The fact he's walking on clouds helps to confirm those suspicion, and when he pinches himself there is no pain.  
  
Clichés, gotta love 'em.  
  
"Hello Sam."  
  
Sam turns around, and behind him the landscape has turned into a barren landscape with patches of grass scattered throughout. Standing there is Dean. Well, it looks like Dean. But in those ways that one knows things in a dream, Sam is pretty sure the person standing before him is not his brother.  
  
"Michael," Sam says.  
  
The angel nods. "Very good."  
  
"Why are you here?" Sam asks. "It's not my body you want."  
  
Though, quietly, Sam is grateful that Michael rather than Lucifer is here. By now he should be able to see that all angels are equal in that they're dicks, only out for self-gratification and a stupid, meaningless war. But Sam is still a human and he is aware of the tropes given by the Bible. Michael appears safer to him. Michael is not synonymous with the devil.  
  
"No," Michael agrees. "But you and I both know that the way to Dean  _isn't_  through me being in his mind."  
  
Sam says nothing.  
  
"And we also know that you're much more interested in listening to me if I'm dressed like this."  
  
Again, he stays silent.  
  
"I want you to think, Sam, long and hard," Michael says. "I want you to consider what your brother will be going against if you don't say yes to my brother."  
  
Sam lets out a harsh, chipped piece of laughter. "So you're here to convince  _me?_ "  
  
"Sure," Michael says. "It doesn't matter  _why_  you say yes, Sammy, it only matters that you do. Think about Dean. Think about who you want him to stand against."  
  
The landscape has changed again. This time it's the motel room he and Dean are currently staying it. A tacky, rent-by-the-hour prostitute hotspot with obnoxious red carpeting and flaking, heart-themed wallpaper. Dean is alseep on the bed closest to the door, hand under his pillow. Always ready, always prepared.  
  
"You think about your brother a lot, don't you Sam?"  
  
Sam turns his attention back to the fake-Dean standing in front of him. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I've been hanging around here for a few nights now. There's not a lot I haven't seen."  
  
"Shut up," Sam says. "Just shut up and leave us alone."  
  
"Not until you both say yes," Michael says. He takes a step closer and looks up at Sam. "Say yes and it'll all be over, winner takes all."  
  
"Go away!" Sam demands, and everything around him begins to melt into the ground. Dean, the walls, the wallpaper, the furniture. Until they're standing in a pure black world. Just the two of them. Maybe this is how it will be. Maybe there's no other way.  
  
"Say yes, Sam. Just one little word." Michael comes even closer, closes the remainder of the space between them, and presses Dean's lips to Sam's.  
  
Sam wakes up, breathing hard.

 

* * *

 

 

**Pleading The Fifth (Sam/Castiel)**

"Cas--" Sam gets out, wiping a hand over the back of his mouth. "What. Was. That?"  
  
"That isn't what people do?"  
  
" _No_. I mean, they can, but--"  
  
Sam feels how wide his eyes have been pulled open as he stares at Castiel and tries to figure out just what happened. One minute they were reading about lore on fairies, and the next Castiel was leaning across the table and his lips were touching Sam's. It was short, dry, silent, and Castiel pulled back with a cock of his head and a quizzical expression in his eyes.  
  
And that kiss, Sam decides, is the weirdest he's ever been subject to in his life. Castiel never brings it up again, and Sam decides that he just had a whole lot of catching up to do now that he was fallen and all.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Six, And It's Finally Right (Sam/Dean)**  
  
Sam doesn't truly know how they ended up here. It was both a long time coming and something he woke up to one day, completely out of the blue, and just _realised_.  
  
Being in love with your brother isn't something you should just  _realise_ , but Sam shows himself as an exception to the rule. After years and years of living, fighting, surviving side-by-side and here they are, old and broken-down together. It's inevitable, he decides while brushing his teeth that morning. He should have seen it coming a long time ago.  
  
Dean spends his days working on the Impala or, funnily enough, reading. They have a huge library dedicated to nothing but fiction and it's a wonderful, delightful change to how they lived in the bunker. Every week one of them will come back with more finds, most of them dog-eared copies from thrift stores, garage sales, or library clearances. They're the best books, Dean told him once, and took a stack to bed with him. They were all back in the library within the week.  
  
That's how Sam finds his brother, sitting on the couch with his feet perched up on the coffee table and a battered version of  _Of Mice and Men_  folded in his hands.  
  
"Have you read this, Sammy?" he asks before Sam even lets his presence be known. That's another thing that makes this all that more  _sensible_  They just know each other, inside and out.  
  
"Yeah, ninth grade English I think," Sam says. He pushes at Dean's legs until his brother drops his feet to the floor with a sigh, then drops next to him on the couch.  
  
"Good book," Dean notes somewhat absent-mindedly and goes back to reading.  
  
"It's got an interesting takes on friendships."  
  
"They're more like brothers."  
  
"I guess so, yeah." Sam runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat. "Dean, I gotta tell you something."  
  
Dean looks up and must see something in Sam's eyes, because he slowly puts the book down on the table and turns his body further in Sam's direction. "What's up?"  
  
"I..." Okay, so maybe Sam should have thought this through a little more. He runs his finger along the inner seam of his jeans, trying to make the words appear in his mind and form something -  _anything_  - that will make Dean understand. That's when it hits him that he's about to  _tell his brother that he loves him_. Nothing about that makes the slightest lick of sense. So he goes for it. "I think I love you."  
  
There's a long, slow silence that stretches between them where Sam won't look at Dean. His eyes stay focused on his jeans until everything becomes blurry and then he waits some more.  
  
"Sammy." Dean sounds quiet, far away. "Sammy. What...what do you mean?"  
  
Sam snaps his head up and he can't read Dean. For perhaps the first time in his life, he can't find the answers in his brother's eyes. "It means I love you. I'm  _in_  love with you. Do you get what that means?"  
  
Dean nods. Slowly, deeply. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I think I do."  
  
"Then what do we--"  
  
Dean leans across and cuts him off. Sam's mind, decidedly slow after staying up all night to overplay just how and why exactly he fell in love with his brother, takes a minute to get with the program and respond to Dean's lips urging him to respond. And respond he does. Hands rising to cup Dean's face, to angle their mouths better together. Deeper, harder, until Dean makes a noise at the back of his throat and lets Sam push him into the couch. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss until Sam forgets to breathe and has to pull back, panting.  
  
"I love you too, Sammy," Dean murmurs up at him. "'bout time you figured it out."  
  
Sam goes back for more.


End file.
